


you got me begging, begging, i'm on my knees

by plalligator



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Light Dom/sub, Loyalty, Multi, OT3, Pining, Polyamory, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Sharing a Bed, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plalligator/pseuds/plalligator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Costis has a particularly enlightening evening.</p><p>(or, that struggle when you're a guard who's in love with your rulers and it turns out you would kind of like it if they bossed you around a little)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you got me begging, begging, i'm on my knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oshun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/gifts).



> first of all i would like to apologize to god, sweet baby jesus, and my mother who birthed me for writing this; i belong in hell and i accept that. 
> 
> second, happy yuletide oshun! i hope you enjoy your gift, i hope i didn't take too many liberties with the prompt. i began writing and by the time i realized what was happening...uh, several developments had occurred.
> 
> third, a note that there are power dynamics present throughout this story. while everything is fully consensual, i've put a more detailed (spoilery) explanation in the end notes to further clarify

“Costis,” said the king, “are you aware of how often you stare at me?” 

Costis started to attention, jerked out of his reverie. They were in the king’s chambers between court sessions. The king was reading and Costis was standing to attention by the door, lulled into a half-sleepy state by the afternoon sun coming through the window and the comforting rustle of paper. 

He had been staring at the king, it was true. These quiet hours were a chance to see Attolis unguarded, his attention elsewhere so Costis could study him without fear of discovery. Or so he thought.

“Your majesty?” stammered Costis. The king was looking at him curiously. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Attolis rolled his eyes. 

“Costis, give me some credit. What kind of king would be I be if I didn’t even notice my own guard staring cow-eyed at me for half the day?” 

“I--” began Costis, beginning to be concerned. Was the king angry? 

“Come to think of it,” said the king, as if it had only just occurred to him. “You stare at the queen a great deal as well. That I can understand,” as Costis felt all the blood leave his face, “my wife is very beautiful. You think so too?” 

“I’m sorry, your majesty! I’ll stop!” said Costis hastily, abandoning denial.

“Costis, I am aware I have a reputation as eccentric at this court, but even I would not have you hanged just for staring,” said the king patiently, as if Costis were particularly stupid. “You aren’t doing anything wrong.” 

“I’ll stop,” said Costis again. “It’s not appropriate.” 

Attolis arched an eyebrow. 

“How so?”

Costis wondered desperately if one of the gods would come down from the heavens and strike him dumb in exchange for ten more gold cups.

“I, that is,” he tried, “she is your wife. It is not appropriate.” 

The king snapped his fingers. 

“I see!” he said. “So you look at the queen as a man looks at his wife. Yes, I can see why I might hang you for that. Are you staring at me in the thralls of jealous rage, then? Because I stole her away?” 

“No!” burst out Costis. “That’s not--not what I meant. It’s just that you are king, your majesty, and the queen is the queen. I’m only a guard.” 

“Ah, so it is because of your position. That makes sense. You are only here to follow orders, after all.”

“Yes, your majesty,” said Costis, relieved, but feeling somewhat like the conversation had been turned upside-down. 

“This is about the limits of your orders.”

“Er, yes, your majesty.”

“Very well, then,” said the king mildly. He paused, and when he spoke again it was with an authority that swept past all Costis’s higher faculties like a dam bursting. “Kneel.” 

Costis was on his knees before he had even fully realized what was happening, sword clattering as it scraped the floor. The king, he noticed, looked somewhat surprised. But then he smiled and shook his head.

“So, so. You are revealed.” He stirred and began to walk towards Costis with slow, measured steps. Costis’s throat worked trying to swallow, and he stared blindly past the king, trying to focus on the wood paneled walls, on the books on the shelves, on anything. He was aware that he was growing hard under his tunic. 

The king stopped in front of Costis, and stretched out his arm--the one with the hook on the end. Costis watched it approach as if hypnotized. At the first touch of cold metal to his cheek, he couldn’t suppress the full-body shudder that ran through him. The king was laughing at him, not unkindly. Costis, cheeks flaming, closed his eyes. 

The hook trailed down his face, nudging his chin upward.

“Tell me the truth, Costis. I want to hear you say it.” 

Costis closed his eyes.

“I look at the queen as a man looks at his wife,” he said haltingly, with his pulse hammering in his throat. “I look at you as a man looks at his lover. I look at you both and I--I want.”

“You want what?” Attolis’s voice was low, hypnotic almost.

 _“Anything,”_ breathed Costis. “Take me into your bed, whatever you wish.” 

“Look at me,” said the king, and Costis forced his eyes open. To his surprise, the king looked appreciative of what he saw, almost...proud. 

“Oh, Costis,” he said fondly. “You’ve done so well,” and Costis had to suppress another shudder at that. Then the king withdrew his arm and turned, pacing back towards his desk. Costis nearly fell forward, and realized with a jolt how much he had been straining forward, toward the king. 

“Get up,” said the king. “Exit my chambers. Go about the rest of your duties as usual. After you get off duty, be in the small courtyard in the east wing. I expect you to be prompt.” He glanced back at Costis, still on the ground, and arched an eyebrow, a gesture so blatantly borrowed from the queen that Costis experienced a renewed surge of arousal right then and there. “Do I have to repeat myself?”

The spell broken, Costis struggled to his feet, the blood rushing back to his numb feet. Realizing something was expected of him, he licked his lips and tried to speak.

“Y-yes, your majesty. It will be as you say.”

The king frowned. 

“That’s not how I expect you to refer to me.”

Costis floundered for a second. Then--

“It will be as you say, my king.”

Eugenides smiled. 

“I knew you would get there in the end. Very well, you’re dismissed.”

“Yes, my king,” said Costis, bowing for good measure, and went. 

\--

“...Costis? Costis!”

Costis jumped, almost upsetting his plate. Aris was staring at him from across the table, looking faintly worried. 

“I just sat down and said hello, and you didn’t even look up,” said Aris. “What happened to you? You look like you’ve been run over with a chariot.” 

Costis blinked stupidly. He knew he’d been distant and distracted all afternoon, but he couldn’t seem to help it. His mind felt slow, oozing along like honey.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, in as reassuring a tone as he could. By the expression on Aris’s face, it fell somewhat short. 

“Did something happen with the king?” 

The king’s face flashed through his mind, smiling that proud smirk and telling Costis he had done well. Heat bloomed in his face. 

“Actually,” he said hastily, changing tactics before Aris could ask any more. “I am feeling a bit ill. I think I’ll retire early.” 

Aris gave him a long look. 

“Get some rest,” was all he said, and Costis was mercifully free to slip away. He was intending to head back to his quarters until the time the king told him, but some treacherous part of his mind steered him to the baths instead. 

\--

When the king arrived in the east wing courtyard, Costis had been there for a quarter of an hour already, determinedly not pacing. He was so determinedly not pacing, in fact, that he nearly jumped a foot when someone tapped him on the shoulder. His sword was halfway out of its sheath before he realized it was just the king, who gave a silent grin and and placed a finger to his lips. 

Costis let out a soundless sigh and slid his sword back into place. When he looked up, Attolis was smirking. Raising an eyebrow that spoke volumes, he gave Costis a long, slow glance, up and down his body. Costis swallowed. He’d been more thorough in the bath than usual, scrubbing every part of his body till it was as clean as could be; even massaging oil into his skin, which he usually didn’t bother with. 

The king laughed silently and crooked a finger, beckoning Costis to follow him down a nearby corridor.

\--

“Where are we going?” asked Costis, when they were safely away from the more well-traveled corridors of the palace. The king shot him a look like he was going to admonish Costis for asking questions out of turn (and Costis would never, ever admit that a small part of him may have hoped for the admonishment). 

“To see the queen, of course,” said the king. 

Costis stopped in his tracks, his stomach plunging to his boots.

 _“What?”_ he said, his voice echoing too loudly in the empty corridor. The king turned back to look at him. “No, my ki--your majesty, I--I can’t.” 

“Costis,” said the king patiently, as if he were talking to a particularly small child, “it is only your queen. She doesn’t bite.” Then he glanced down at his severed hand, covered by the sleeve of his robe. “Much,” he admitted. “We are talking about my wife, here.” 

Costis let out an involuntary gurgling noise. 

“But not to worry,” continued the king airily. “She did tell me if I ever took a mistress it would be _my_ other hand she would cut off. In all likelihood she’ll leave you alone.”

“She can cut off both my hands for all I care!” burst out Costis. “Gods above, she can do whatever she likes with me, so long as--” he stopped, clamping his mouth shut. 

Comprehension dawned on the king’s face. 

“You would cheerfully sacrifice any number of limbs if it meant my wife’s good opinion.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Costis nodded miserably. It was one thing if the king knew about his shameful desires. The king, as he was so fond of pointing out, knew everything. And if he laughed at Costis, well, at least Costis was accustomed to being laughed at by the king. The queen wouldn’t laugh at him. She would look at him like he was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of her slipper, and she would never want to see him again. 

Costis felt ill. 

“The landslide claims more victims,” the king said, nonsensically. Then: “All the more reason for you to go to her, then.” 

“Your majesty--” interjected Costis, somewhat desperately. Attolis caught his gaze, pinning him with dark eyes.

“Am I king?”

The words were quiet, but Costis immediately stilled. 

“Are you my guard?” continued Attolis, tilting his head. “Or am I mistaken?” 

Costis breathed out panic through his nose. This was his king. This was his king giving him an order. Following orders was his job.

“It will be as you say, my king.” 

\--

The queen was sitting at her reading table when Costis and the king entered.

“I brought Costis with me,” announced the king in lieu of greeting. The queen turned in her chair to observe him. 

“So I can see,” she said levelly. She looked at Costis. She did not, he noted with a certain amount of numb terror, look particularly happy to see him. There was a tiny furrow in between her eyebrows. She rose from her chair, and started towards him: he had to fight not to step back. The queen was of a height with him, and so could look him in the eye without tilting her head up.

Costis swallowed and stared respectfully at the wall behind her head, locking his hands behind his back in parade rest. 

“This is ridiculous,” said the queen, clearly speaking to the king. Her eyes didn’t leave Costis’s face. “The boy is clearly terrified.” 

“Only that you’re going to think he’s some kind of deviant and send him away,” said the king, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrestling one-handed with his boots. Costis, mortified, glared at him over the queen’s shoulder. 

The queen’s lips thinned, and she looked away.

“I’m not going to ruin one of my own guardsmen just because you thought it was a good idea,” she said tightly. 

The king raised his eyes heavenward.  
“So little faith,” he complained, to no one in particular. Then his eyes slid back to Costis, pinning him like a knife to the ribs. “Costis,” he said slowly, “what was it you said the queen could do to you?” 

The king, Costis thought fervently, was a filthy traitor. He stared fixedly past the queen’s head.

“Anything she likes, my king.” 

The queen made an abortive sound. 

“Ridiculous,” she said, an undercurrent to her voice he couldn’t quite place. 

Attolis said nothing. Instead, he looked over at Costis, expectant. Costis stared back at him with panic. What did he want _Costis_ to do about this? He looked back at the queen and noticed, abruptly, the signs of her shifting eyes and the way her hands were uneasily clenched in her skirt. 

The queen was _nervous?_ Over _him?_ Not totally understanding, but wanting the queen to be at ease, Costis took a deep breath and knelt. Not as he had knelt for the king, in a haze of lust and impulse, but formally and deliberately; on one knee, head bowed. The proper way to kneel before one’s queen. 

"Your majesty,” he said. “I serve at your pleasure.” 

He heard the queen's sharp intake of breath. 

"Costis," she said, finally addressing him directly. "I poisoned my last husband and maimed my current one. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"With respect, your majesty, it does not signify."

"Why?" 

"Because you are my queen."

The queen was deathly silent, and Costis dared not look up. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Then he heard the king's low chuckle, and in his peripheral vision could see his stockinged feet approach where the queen was standing. 

"Doesn't he serve so beautifully?" he murmured. "Go on, Irene, put the boy out of his misery."

Costis, warm with praise, dared to look up at this. The king was watching him with that new and possessive smile, the queen with eyes wide and lips slightly parted like she was seeing him for the first time. The combined weights of their stares fell on him like a hammer, and he squirmed a little, insides crawling. 

Finally the queen spoke. 

"Take off your clothes," she said. "I want to see you."

Costis scrambled to his feet, fumbling to unbuckle his chest and back plate. He felt light and unmoored, almost dizzy, now that the terror had worn off; and was conscious again of growing hard. He shed his armor as quickly as possible (though taking care to place it on the ground in a neat pile, a far distant part of his mind noting how furious Teleus would be if he showed up tomorrow in dented or scuffed armor) and in a few breathless moments stood bare in front of the king and queen, shifting as his bootless feet met cold marble floor. 

The king noticed his discomfort, and waved him forward into the lamplight and onto the lush rug that covered the larger part of the queen's bedchamber. Then he turned to the queen. 

"Well," he said. "Does he suit?" They turned their twin gazes upon him again. 

Costis was a soldier, and had a soldier's lack of modesty. Even if the barracks hadn't trained it out of him, communal baths would have.

This was different. This was his king and his queen, and this was their bedchamber, and the king was in his stockinged feet with the queen in a nightdress, and Costis was exposed in every way he could be. 

The knowledge spread through him like the first heady rush of unwatered wine, leaving him as warm as if his skin was inflamed with fever. 

"Yes," said the queen finally. "I believe he does." She left the king’s side, and came to circle Costis. He could feel her gaze prickling on his back as she walked behind him, and his heart quickened in anticipation.

“I don’t suppose it escaped your notice that he is built like one of the heroes of old,” said Attolia dryly, having recovered her poise once again. “He wouldn’t look out of place draped in linen and placed on a plinth in my megaron.” 

“That means she likes your ridiculously large muscles,” said the king to Costis, conversationally, and Costis’s mind went blank at the idea that the queen had ever given even a passing thought to his muscles. Then, to Attolia: “I knew you wouldn’t accept anything less than the best, my dear.” 

Attolia gave a delicate snort.

“And I suppose the thief feels no desire for the things he steals? Very well, then.” 

The queen circled in front of Costis again, and took his chin in one slender hand. 

“Costis,” she said, “I want you to use your mouth on my husband.” 

There was a strangled noise from the king’s direction. Costis glanced to the side to see that the king was covering his face with his good hand. The queen arched an eyebrow at him.

“That is, if that is agreeable to you, my lord.” 

“Whatever pleases you, my dear,” said the king, aiming for nonchalance but missing it completely. A flush was visible on his dark skin, and there was a telltale bulge beneath his tunic.

With lithe grace, he settled himself on the edge of the bed and spread his legs.

The queen kept hold of Costis’s chin. 

“Also,” she said, “you can’t touch yourself.” She released him. “Go on.” 

Costis swallowed. He strode over and dropped to his knees between the king’s legs. With slightly shaking hands, he pushed the king’s tunic up, baring the muscled flesh of his stomach. Then he hooked his fingers in the waist of the king’s breeches. Attolis obligingly lifted his hips so Costis could slide them down, drinking in the sight of every newly revealed inch. He had not had the opportunity to study the king’s body in detail before and up close he could see the wiry cords of muscle beneath the skin of the king’s thighs, the sharp jut of his hipbones, the thin trail of hair down his stomach. His cock stood erect against his stomach.

Costis wonderingly pressed a thumb to the juncture of Attolis’ hipbone and felt him gasp. 

_“I am doing this to him,”_ he thought. _“This is my king. And he is this way because of me.”_

With that thought, he bent to take the king’s cock in his mouth. He rolled his tongue around the head and was rewarded with a noise somewhere between a groan and a gasp. Closing his eyes, he leaned into it. 

As Costis would never have admitted to expecting, the king was vocal. He kept up a steady stream of curses, first in Attolian and then in Eddisian. Costis hummed around his cock and the king’s legs jerked, catching him in the arm; it seemed natural to press his hands against the king’s calves, keeping him pinned in place. 

“So good, Costis, so beautiful--ah--” He thrust with increased urgency, and Costis took it eagerly. His own arousal seemed almost distant now. All that mattered was the sounds the king was making, the abortive jerks of his hips as he bucked up into Costis’s mouth. 

Finally, with a moaned warning, he withdrew and spent with a hoarse cry. His seed spattered on Costis’s face, in his mouth. It pooled on his tongue, curiously salty. He licked his lips and swallowed, and felt something thrill through him at the thought of the picture he must make. How filthy it was. And yet, how right. He looked up at the king. Attolis was smiling at him with such an open and tender look that his heart lurched. 

“My Costis,” Attolis said, and reached out his good hand to stroke Costis’s hair. “You look so good on your knees. Such a pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. My queen was right, you do have the physique of a god. And you obey me so well.” Costis closed his eyes again and rested his head against Attolis’s inner thigh, drinking in the praise. My Costis, the king said. My Costis. 

“Not indifferent, then,” came the queen’s voice. He opened his eyes. She was lounging on the bed behind the king, her nightdress hiked up and--Costis gulped--her fingers lazily working between her legs. His arousal came back all in a rush, making his cock twitch painfully. Suddenly he couldn’t tear his eyes away; there was the delicate line of her ankle, the shadow of her breasts hanging heavy beneath the fabric. 

High up on her inner thigh there was a vivid red mark, the kind that a bite might make. A vision flashed through Costis’s mind of the king’s dark head framed between the queen’s legs, of him using his clever mouth on her. 

He had to take a deep breath to keep the thought from overwhelming him, digging his nails into the muscle of his thigh. 

“My dear,” said the king, with a sidelong, knowing glance at Costis, “I think Costis deserves a reward, don’t you? He’s done so well.” 

“Mm,” said Attolia. “Costis, come up on the bed.” 

He did so, clambering painfully up as the blood rushed back to his legs. He spread himself out on the bed, aware every moment of the king and queen’s watchful gazes prickling on his skin. 

“Don’t move,” came the queen’s voice, and Costis stilled, blood humming with anticipation. Then, slowly, deliberately, she ran her palm down his chest. He caught his breath and subsided into the touch. 

The king leaned over and kissed him, biting down hard on his lower lip. Costis whimpered. The king gave him the cheerful grin that always signaled trouble.  
"That'll leave a mark in the morning," he said, running a finger over Costis's bruised mouth. "I wonder who will be the first to notice." At the expression on Costis's face, he chuckled. "Unfortunately for your honor, Costis, I don't care if the whole guard knows what kind of night you had. It will be obvious, after all. With this," he touched Costis's mouth again, "and this," a finger to a sore spot on Costis’s neck. 

"And this," said Attolia, as she bent down and delicately nipped Costis on the ear. 

"I wonder if Teleus will notice," continued the king blithely, running a possessive hand down Costis's chest. "I think so."

"He's very observant," said Attolia as solemnly as if her hand wasn’t skirting ever closer to Costis’s cock with agonizing slowness. "I wouldn't have made him captain if he wasn't."

"There you have it," said Attolis. "Teleus will notice, and if the others don't at first, they certainly will once you bathe. Everyone will stare, and they will speculate, but they will never guess who made you look this way. You'll know. You'll stand there in your well-polished armor without a buckle out of place, and you'll know." Here his mouth was practically pressed up against Costis's ear. "How does that make you feel?"

It made Costis feel that he might come from a single touch. 

“Please,” he whispered.

“Please, what?” said Attolia. She ran her nails lightly down his side, making him shiver.

“Please let me come,” he tried hoarsely. 

She shook her head and Costis tried not to moan. He was quivering now, with the effort of not thrusting upward. 

“I know you can beg better than that,” she said. 

“Please,” he babbled in a torrent of words that he hardly marked, so desperate was he to get relief, “please, my queen, _basileia_ , I belong to you, whatever you ask--” 

In one movement, she swung her leg over his body to straddle his hips, lowered herself onto his cock and oh, _oh_ , nothing he had ever done before had felt like this. He wouldn’t be able to last at this rate, not when she was so slick and tight around him. 

“My queen--” he choked out. She reached out and stroked his cheek.

“Shh,” she said, “shh.” And then she began to move, and Costis was lost to anything other than the slide of her body against his. She fucked him fiercely and relentlessly, and all he could do was lie back and take it. It felt so perfect, so right that she should use him thus; that her nails dug into his sides while the king’s breath was hot in his ear, his lips on Costis’ neck. 

His climax came in a rush, such a flood of sensation that he nearly wept. It swept through his body to leave him shuddering and spent, his muscles lax. Distantly, he could feel Attolia keep moving, each roll of her hips sensitive to his softening cock, until she clenched around him and rode out her own climax. 

He lay there in a haze, the world seeming far away. He felt like he had just gone ten rounds on the training grounds; it was the same pleasantly exhausted feeling, where all thoughts and worries were wiped clean from his mind and there was only satisfaction and a dull ache in his muscles. 

\--

After some time, a hand on his shoulder jolted him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to see the king peering at him, smiling fondly.

“He awakens,” he announced. 

Costis sat up in a panic, aware that he had fallen asleep like a lump in the queen’s bed. 

“I should go--” he began hastily, and made to get off the bed. The king’s face changed. His smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud.

“You’ll stay here until I say you can leave,” he said with deceptive mildness. “Or am I not king?” 

“Er,” began Costis, but the king gave a surprisingly strong push at his shoulder, forcing him to lie down again. Then, without another word, he got up and walked away. 

The queen came into view, carrying a damp cloth. She handed it him, and after a moment Costis realized he was meant to use it to wipe clean the sweat and seed that had dried on his skin. 

“You want to stay, don’t you?” Attolia said in a tone that strongly suggested an honest answer. Costis couldn't bring himself to answer, suddenly paralyzed with fear. For him to sleep in their bed as if he belonged there, with them, was somehow the most intimate thing he could conceive of. 

After a moment, she spoke in a more gentle tone than he was used to hearing. 

“My husband gives you orders because you enjoy taking them," she said. “And because it seems that is the only way you will take what you want. I had hoped, after tonight, you might feel comfortable asking for it. Now. Do you want to stay?"

Costis closed his eyes.

“I do,” he said huskily, meaning it from his heart. “I do, I do.” 

The queen turned away from Costis. 

“There,” she said, reprovingly, “are you satisfied?” The king was standing in the shadows, looking rueful.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “Either of you,” he added, sitting down on the bed on Costis’s other side. 

“My Costis,” he said. “You are incomparable. Now move over.” He nudged Costis to the center of the bed. Costis lay down slowly, with the king and queen on either side of him. Attolis laid a possessive hand across his chest; and the queen stretched out by his side, not quite touching him, like a cat that didn’t want to seem too interested. 

His last thought before he drifted back into sleep was that he could not remember why he had ever thought to resist this. 

\--

“Costis.”

Costis forced his eyes open and blinked at the queen. Her face was inches away from his, close enough that he could count individual eyelashes. 

“My queen?” he said sleepily. 

“I wanted to say,” she began haltingly. “I mean, that is to say--”

“My queen?” repeated Costis, alarmed. The queen closed her eyes and slowly breathed out through her nose. 

“Your submission is a gift and an honor I had never presumed to have. I thank you for it,” she said steadily. “And I want you to know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Costis breath caught in his throat, and he stared at the queen in wonder. 

“Thank you, my queen,” he said, stammering a little, “you honor me, truly.” And then, with a sudden surge of bravery he couldn’t account for, “You might hurt me. If--if you wished.” 

The queen stared at him, eyes wide.

“Do _you_ wish it?” she said finally.

Costis swallowed. He did, madly, though he wouldn’t have said so until that very moment.

“I do, my queen.”

She stared at him unblinkingly for another few seconds, then reached out a hand and stroked his sweat-damp hair. 

“Next time, then,” she said softly. “Now sleep.” 

“Yes, my queen,” he said, and prompted by her words, slid quickly and calmly into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

\--

The next time he woke, it was to the king’s voice in his ear. 

“Costis, you should get up unless you want to be the reason both of us are caught in the queen’s bedchamber. Me they might forgive, but I suspect you would be in a lot of trouble.”

Costis, acting mostly on instinct, rolled blearily out of bed and fumbled for his tunic. The king was already dressed and tapping his foot; the queen was still in bed. At the sound of the king’s voice, she rolled over and murmured sleepily. Attolis caught Costis’s look and shook his head. 

“Don’t bother,” he said. “She’s always like this in the morning.” While Costis was still pondering this new and unexpected view of the queen, the king ushered him out of the room and led him down a truly dizzying amount of silent corridors until they reached a bit that Costis recognized. 

“I think you can find your way from here,” he said quietly, but with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I expect to see you at morning practice bright and early. Don’t think you can slack off just because you’re my favorite guard.” Before Costis could think of something to say to this astonishing piece of information, the king had slipped away and Costis was alone. 

He shook his head and began to head back to his quarters. 

Attolis talked a good game, but Costis was rather looking forward to morning practice.

**Author's Note:**

> power dynamics notes: costis essentially acts as a sub with gen and attolia as doms. they are in a position of power over him, but attolia in particular is careful to make sure he's not pressured into anything. she initially refuses to engage in any kind of activity with costis because she is concerned he's not fully willing (also because she has Emotional Issues, haha, being attolia irene is a blast) but in the end is convinced otherwise. sex happens, etc
> 
> HUGE thanks to my betas who will stay unnamed for now but who are treasures for doing their beta'ing...five hours before the deadline? these guys right here, am i right.
> 
> gen does talk a good game, but all it really takes to make him lose his composure is costis licking his lips and casting pointed glances at gen. irene isn't as easy to crack, but everyone in court the next day does notice that the queen seems to be a better mood than usual, almost...cheerful. it's weird.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] you got me begging, begging, i'm on my knees](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892169) by [Shmaylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmaylor/pseuds/Shmaylor)




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